Crime Doesn't Pay
by Kitty in a Cornfield
Summary: Crime doesn't pay. Well, okay, sometimes it does. Heyes reflects on the past and has a moment with his (totally made up for the purposes of this story) son.


It's been a little while since I've written any actual fanfiction, but I've been re-watching the show on Hulu this week and this kind of came out of it spontaneously. Not my best work, but do leave a lovely little review to let me know what you think! And I'll send a little love your way in return.

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Didn't make it. Just like to riff off it. So don't sue me! But do review?**

Crime doesn't pay.

Well, okay, sometimes it does. In fact, in his vast experience of criminal enterprising, Hannibal Heyes had been extraordinarily well paid. Sometimes, it was gold. Other times, it was in large bills. Some of his favorite times, it had been with the pleasure of a lovely lady who had found him charming and didn't immediately notice that he was missing in the morning. But that was hardly relevant to the conversation at hand...especially when it came to the pleading pair of light brown eyes staring up at him innocently, waiting for a good talking to. "Daddy?"

It was _her_ idea, of course. Heyes could imagine her off somewhere, laughing at the mere idea of an ex-outlaw scolding his own son about stealing. It certainly explained the knowing smirk on his wife's face when she'd left the house that morning, commenting casually about what an interesting day father and son would have together. Really, he should've seen it coming-Jesse only smiled when she was up to something. Not that she was ever not up to something, but still...she'd blindsided him with this one.

So now, what was he supposed to say? What do parents normally tell their children when they're caught taking something that isn't theirs?

It wasn't that Heyes didn't have a wealth of examples of why stealing is bad in his repertoire. He'd known more than a few men who'd hung for the trouble they'd gotten into. He knew another that had been dragged behind his horse until long after he'd been dead. Hell, he even knew one who'd woken up hitched, which was arguably a fate worse than death. Or it was at the time, anyway. Kid never could hold out too long when it came to a pretty face. And then again, Heyes had plenty of examples that proved the opposite.

His and Kid's survival. Food on the table. Adventure. A chance to use his cunning and outwit the railroads and the law. Pleasant company and good friends. Granted, sometimes they got a little too big for their boots and tried to replace you as leader, but he could hardly fault Wheat for that. And then there was the occasional girl who got it into her head to chase after the gang of outlaws who'd just blown up a safe because she'd had the bad sense to store her mother's emerald necklace in it and she'd be damned if she was about to lose the last thing she had of her family.

Now that he thought about it, criminals were just about the only people he'd known who had any sense.

Cody gazed up at him and Heyes stared down into eyes that mirrored his own. He was only a year older than his son when he'd been orphaned. He'd had to learn to make his own way in the world, survive however he'd had to. It wasn't until he'd found Kid that the idea of family had seemed real to Heyes again. Now, here he was, with a blank slate and a wife and son of his own. It bothered him sometimes when he really thought about it. He'd already lost so much. Letting another person in, getting that close...he remembered the day his parents had died, how he'd found his younger brother and sister. To lose someone else like would be unbearable. It was different with Kid-in all the scrapes they'd gotten into, no one had ever outdrawn him.

Kids were fragile, though, and wives could cut you down with the right look. Jesse was particularly skilled at that. "Daddy?"

"Uhh, listen," Heyes began, still not quite sure what to say. He hunched down so that he and Cody were eye level and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sometimes...things happen, and you have to do...what you have to do," came his hesitant response. "But," he began again, gripping his son's shoulder, "I'm not going anywhere." He pulled the boy into a hug, gripping him tightly. "And you don't need to steal."

Crime doesn't pay...but as the little boy's arms curled around Heyes' neck, and he heard "I love you, Daddy," spoken near his ear, Heyes thought that maybe...sometimes...it did.


End file.
